


A Brief Encounter in Regents Park

by Jimlockian



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:12:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jimlockian/pseuds/Jimlockian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I asked my amazing BFF who writes OUAT prompts like a boss to give me my first ever prompt and she replied – would you do a Jim/John?   This drabble is what happened...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Brief Encounter in Regents Park

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to Doyle, Moffat & Gatiss, no copyright infringement intended. Just having fun!

Oh that precious dogged persistence.. The way the military doctor moves to follow Sherlock like some puppy after its master. The two men taking a short cut through Regents Park, too far off for their conversation to be overheard but Jim Moriarty could see Sherlock's mouth moving a mile a minute, completely caught up in the present game. Just as Moriarty intended.

Jim Moriarty does not know the ravages of war, his is a more sophisticated game than such barbarianism after all. Yet he can study it on John Watson. It is evident in every step he takes in the wake of Sherlock Holmes. Just as the detective needs his mental spark plug of a man, John needs the social failure that is Holmes. John wants something to protect that is worth fighting for, it is as vivid as the sun shining on him.

Sherlock seems worth fighting for, and a battle no one else will take – of course John accepted almost immediately. That acceptance was now Moriarty's latest prey.

He settled back on the park bench in his over expensive tawny suit, observing the two men he wanted to rip apart as they walked nearly attached at the hip. That chummy nature so abhorrent to Sherlock, yet plain as day when he was with John, absolutely disgusted Jim, like swigging back a shot of cat's piss.

The doctor's ignorance of his own internal mechanics bemuses Moriarty. This light haired, slightly pudgy man, who by all accounts is average, has proven that he is much more. John Watson is a moon orbiting around great plants – a small, unobtrusive thing revolving around some greater body, yet all the while its own little pleasant world full of new promise. Jim Moriarty wants to shift his orbit, preferably with his own hips. Now that would really drive the detective mad...  
  
  


A few minutes later Sherlock Holmes is so absorbed in making deductions about the recent information he has gleaned that he barely notices his flatmate leaving. John is off to get them something to drink from a nearby vendor when he hears a familiar Irish trill behind him. “Doctor Watson, may I have a word?”  
  
John spins around to face the smirk-eyed consulting criminal. His first reaction is to look around them – nobody within sight. John had already walked out of Sherlock's line of vision before Moriarty approached him. They're alone. Instinctively he reaches his hand on his jumper as if fidgeting, but the handle of his gun is just beneath the fabric, within his trouser pocket. With Sherlock Holmes John had learned it was always best to be armed.

The bench Moriarty had been on was not far from them, but the madman was now standing almost too close. John would have felt nervous enough without their enemy coming into his personal space.

Silken voice a razor edge with all the promise of danger. “If I can have you, I wouldn't want Sherlock.” Moriarty does not add the words, _he'll already be destroyed,_ as he leans in and lightly presses his soft lips to John's.  
  
When Sherlock Holmes had first tried to entice him with the case of A Study In Pink, all he had had to do was mention danger and John inexplicably came running. It was nonsensical to John, all instinct, but the detective had known. John thrived in danger. Maybe that was why now, in a lip-lock with a man who held him at gunpoint to get him to put on a Semtex-laden vest, he softly moaned.  
  
There's a pleasant hint of stubble to his chin, unmistakably not a woman, though John is not bothered. Jim does not feel feminine, but his lips are softer than John would have imagined a man's should be. Softer than his own, anyway. Within his trousers John's member twitches to life. It's then he wrenches himself away from Jim and gives the villain a glare, “I'm not doing this." John's voice snaps louder when all Moriarty responds with is a devilish grin, "You wouldn't have left Sherlock alone!”

John stands with both hands clasped in fists and for a second Jim wonders if he will be punched. The militant man is surely capable, but he bottles his anger with a perplexing sort of patience and begins to stomp away. Jim chuckles under his breath when John looks over his shoulder at him – mission accomplished.


End file.
